The Girl Next Door
by PlayerPiano
Summary: After the sudden death of her beloved mother, Emily's father uproots them both and moves them to a new home-a tiny village where Emily finds very little comfort. Until the day she discovers that a girl lives next door. A girl who could be just the friend she's been looking for.


**The Girl Next Door  
**

Emily missed her mother very, very much. Excruciatingly much.

Her mother had died nearly a year ago, and still Emily felt her loss just as keenly as though it had happened yesterday. No matter what relatives and friends said, time did nothing for wounds. Nothing at all. Emily's father felt the same way. It was why he'd uprooted them from their family home, leaving Mother's grave, their remaining family, their house, Father's business, and most of their belongings behind. Father hoped that a new village would mean a new start.

For Emily, all it had meant was a gaping loneliness. She was thirteen years old, and there was nobody else her age in this entire village. She didn't even have a lady's maid. Or a cat, or a bird. All those had been left behind. To Emily, this new life seemed utterly barren.

Their new house was much smaller than their old one, which was perhaps the only nice thing about having left so many heirlooms behind. This tiny place wouldn't have been able to hold them all. During the long days spent alone while Father conducted business from his study on the ground floor, Emily roamed the new house. It was tall and narrow, and only separated from its nearly identical neighbor by a breath of alleyway. If only Mother were still alive. She'd have someone to talk to.

"Go make a friend," encouraged Father over dinner one evening about a week after they had arrived. Emily had been unable to hide her bad feelings. Though she congratulated herself on her good sense in not mentioning Mother before Father. A year ago she most likely would not have had that much restraint.

"It's hard to make friends here," Emily replied grumpily. "There are no friends here to make." And she left it at that.

Father did not press her further. He'd merely turned back to his food, finished quickly, and then retreated back to his study. Father had never moped before Mother died. Emily wanted to help, but didn't know how. And so she let Father encourage her, and then ignored the way he kept himself locked up in his study all day and night. Surely if Father needed her help, he would say so.

So Emily went about her business, missing her mother and wishing for some kind of companion. When she'd reached the point that she'd roamed the house enough that she knew the exact number of cracks in the plaster in the dining room ceiling (eight), she took to finding other ways to amuse herself. Luckily for her, their old piano was one of the few large items Father had agreed to bring along. She played, she sang to herself the songs her mother had liked. She took walks, she petted the two stray pepper-colored cats that roamed the village. This was Emily's life now. It made her miss her old life, her normal, light-filled, pleasant life, with happy parents and plenty of guests and lots of music.

Day to day life in the village was quiet. The pace was that of a garden snail next to the speed of life in her old town. There were no grand parties. There were no festivals. Even the church bells were hard to hear, as the church was across the river. Almost like an afterthought. The cathedral in Emily's hometown had been right smack in the middle of things, and the pealing of its bells were heard all the time.

As the weeks went on Emily explored more, and she found she truly enjoyed being out in the air. The sky was usually grey and the sunshine was weak, but Emily liked it all anyway. She investigated her street—two houses, the back side of the milliner's, cobbled, ending in a dead end at the village wall. From there she went around the corner to the square—much more modest than at home, one statue, a row of terraced houses, a little roped-off square of green where a lone sheep grazed, a clockmaker's and a dress shop, all topped off by the austere Everglot mansion, which Emily found a bit cold and off-putting. She strolled down another street off the square and found the market, the stalls closed up for the day. The crown jewel of that street was a little place with a sign that said TAVERN. Once she even walked outside of the gates and made a circle around the walled village, ending up right back where she started. That was the entirety of her new home. If she couldn't know people, she might as well know every brick and cobblestone and make the best of it.

At first she was self-conscious going about without a chaperone, but when no one made any remarks or gave her strange looks she grew bolder and more assured. At last, she felt more at home in the village's narrow, crooked streets. There were people she nodded to as she walked. A few she knew enough to chat with. There was Miss Plum at the Tavern, who sent meals along to Emily's house, and who had once said how pretty Emily's dress was. Nearby was nice middle-aged Mr. Van Dort (and not-so-nice _old _Mr. Van Dort) at the fish stall, who she saw every Friday when she was allowed to buy the fish for dinner. There was the funny little town crier, who reported the weather and the day's news, and who usually made her laugh with how serious he was about his task.

While she was pleased with her acquaintances, she still longed for a friend. A real, heartfelt, bosom _friend._

Father didn't seem to be making many new friends, either, though he didn't seem as bothered by it as Emily was. He seemed content enough alone. At home, in the big town she'd grown up in, when Mother was alive, there were callers three times a week. Mother and Emily went out on calls the other days. No one seemed to do that here. People walked, but usually alone, and they only seemed to visit on business.

Only once had Emily had the opportunity to be hostess. The neighbors, a sweet older couple called the Wadleighs, had come to call. They lived next door. While they hadn't even stayed long enough for Emily to offer to try to figure out how to put tea on, they had had a pleasant little chat. On the way out they had left their card, and had mentioned their at-home days. When Emily had related the news to Father, and shown him the card, he hadn't seemed all that interested. So Emily kept the card herself. She tucked it into the frame of the portrait of her mother that she kept in her room. She thrilled to see it there. Grown-up friends nearly old enough to be her grandparents were better than no friends at all!

So pleased was she with having finally received a call, Emily lost no time in spreading the word. While picking up the day's meals from Miss Plum, she said, "You'll never guess what! I've had a call! The Wadleighs, who live next door. They told me their at-home days and everything and said that I should come by to visit them!"

"Well, isn't that nice news," Miss Plum replied, and Emily felt herself grow warm with pleasure as she nodded in agreement. "They're nice folks, in here every week-" Before she could say more, she was interrupted by a loud crash from the floor above, followed by angry shouting in French.

"Goodbye, dear," Miss Plum said, ushering Emily hastily out the door. "Let us know how your visiting goes."

At the fish stall, Emily watched as Mr. Van Dort weighed out sardines. "I've met my neighbors!" she informed him happily. "The Wadleighs paid me a call. They left their card!"

"Fitting in already, Miss!" he replied with a kindly grin as he handed over her order. Emily grinned back. When Mr. Van Dort gave her a thumbs-up, she giggled. "Give it time, give it time."

On the way home she happened to cross paths with the crier, who had paused next to the statue in the square to catch his breath and rest his ringing arm.

"I'm going out on a call soon!" she told him, still fit to burst with her news. Hastily she readjusted her grip on her packages, which she'd neglected in her enthusiasm and had started to slip from her grasp. Something shifted in an alarming way in the big box. Emily hoped it wasn't Miss Plum's delicious blintzes being crushed and spoiled.

"I'm officially _in society_ now!" she went on excitedly. "Surely that's a news item? You can ring about it?"

The crier gave his wrist and fingers one more flex. "Well, I might could find a place for it on the noontime rounds. After the weather, maybe."

In her delight Emily started to clap her hands, just in time remembering that she was carrying parcels. So she settled for a bob that made her crinoline cage bounce. "Thank you! Thank you! That's so very kind!"

"What is the name of the party you intend to call on?" the crier asked, his tone very official and important. Emily raised her chin and responded in kind.

"Captain and Mrs. Wadleigh," she said. The crier stopped stock still in the middle of a very smart nod. Emily would have giggled at the sight, had she not noticed the look he was giving her.

"What?" she asked, alarmed. Had she misstepped, somehow? No one else she'd spoken to had reacted that way. He took a glance around the square, and then leaned toward her.

"You're new, aren't you, Miss?" he asked in return, cupping his hand around his mouth to amplify his theatrical whisper. Emily leaned closer.

"Yes," she whispered back. "Why?" She bit her lip, nervous and confused, as the crier seemed to weigh his response.

"No one receives them," he told her, still in that exaggerated whisper. "Not _officially_. Headline news years ago. Very public. I can give you more details, but not just now. Retrospectives are on Saturdays." This last was punctuated with a gentle tinkle of his bell.

Emily stared, mouth open. Not received? She'd never heard of that before. Why, _everyone _was received. And the Wadleighs were sweet and kind and charming and had treated her very nicely. Emily decided the crier was mistaken, or perhaps telling her a naughty fib as a joke. Before she could attempt to defend her new friends, though, the crier had moved away from her and was straightening his hat.

"Their niece is very respected, though, despite everything. She lives with them," the crier added, full voice now. "If you want to pay calls you might try her, she's only a little older than you. Maudeline Elvstead. I was saving this for the six-o'clock news, but she'll be home from a country estate stay this evening."

A niece? Emily opened her mouth to ask more about this startling revelation, but the crier was already clanging his bell, walking away from her across the square, shouting some news item to do with the Everglots.

"There's a girl who lives next door?" Emily said wonderingly to herself. The slightly upsetting and confusing news about the Wadleighs quite forgotten, Emily smiled. A girl lived next door. A new friend. Not minding her parcels or her skirts, Emily rushed home to begin preparations for her social call the next day.

0-0

Once Emily knew of Maudeline, it was all she could think about. All night she wondered. The Wadleighs hadn't mentioned her, so she was a complete mystery. What did she look like? Was she kind? Did she know how to dance or speak French or paint? Did she enjoy hopscotch or chess? Tucked up in bed that night, Emily stared at the ceiling, visions of her next-door-neighbor drifting before her mind's eye. When she went next door to call, she would wear her blue dress, the grown-up looking one. It always paid to make a good first impression. Mother had always said so.

Emily felt the pang of a tired grief. She wished she could tell Mother all about the girl next door, and how much she longed to meet her. Maudeline must have arrived by now. It was bedtime. Perhaps Maudeline was tucked up in her own bed, thinking about receiving calls the next day. The thought made Emily smile, and she drifted off to sleep.

"Maudeline is out, dear," said Mrs. Wadleigh, ushering a disappointed Emily into the drawing room the next day. It might have been Emily's imagination, but something seemed funny about Mrs. Wadleigh's tone when she said it. Emily was about to inquire, but her hostess preempted her by offering tea and cake.

_A quite charming visit,_ Emily thought when it was done, and she was going down the Wadleighs' front stairs. But it was like visiting her mother's friends had been back home. Cake, talk of the weather, compliments on dresses and bonnets. Emily wanted something a bit..._more _than that. Something fun. The kind of fun she used to have with her gaggle of girlfriends in her hometown. If this was what being a lady in society was like _all the time_, Emily _almost _thought playing piano and singing to herself was better.

The clip-clop of hooves on the cobblestones made her look up. A fine handsome black horse was coming down the narrow street at a stately pace. Emily, who loved animals, wished she could stroke that handsome coat, pet the soft nose, maybe feed it some sugar. It had been so long since she'd petted a horse. Her gaze moved up to the rider. It was a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, clad in a brilliantly tailored black riding habit. Beneath her black hat her face was angular and she had a very big chin. She was..._stately_. Yes, that was the word that came to mind. She rode past Emily there on the curb, offering her only the briefest of looks. Emily openly stared.

"Maudeline!" she said to herself, watching as the horse and rider disappeared around the corner to where Emily figured the Wadleigh's carriage house was. Emily put her fingers to her lips. It had to be her! Emily hadn't been expecting someone so very grown-up and elegant. And riding! Perhaps she would teach Emily to ride. She hadn't known she'd always wanted to learn until just this very moment.

Expectant, Emily hung about at the bottom of the steps for a little while. She had hoped that Maudeline would walk past to go back inside, and then Emily could introduce herself and offer her card. Emily patted her thin little drawstring bag, and then peeped inside. She'd forgotten her cards. Oh well. Eventually Emily realized that Maudeline had used the back entrance to the house, and wouldn't be by again. Only a little disappointed, Emily made her way back to her own house. Her mood and determination were both bolstered by the knowledge that Maudeline was just next door. Why, a meeting could happen anytime!

From that day on, Emily made a habit of spying on her neighbor—what else was there to watch from her window, after all? Besides, it was careful research. Best to learn all she could about Maudeline, the young woman who lived next door. If only, Emily thought wistfully, Maudeline could be induced to show interest in _her_.

At least three days a week Maudeline went out for a ride on her horse. Just like that first day. She cut _quite _the figure. Her expression, from what Emily could see, was usually an impeccably noble sort of grimace. It made Emily wonder what Maudeline would look like if she smiled. Other times Maudeline went for walks, always well-dressed in hooped skirts and dresses in flatteringly dark colors. She never walked for long, though, and was always accompanied by the maid.

Sometimes Emily would hear piano music from next door, most often just after lunch, after the Wadleighs had left for their daily walk. It was a little routine. Emily would be at the front window watering her potted fern. The captain and his wife would walk past, and Emily would smile at how they walked arm in arm. And then, the music. Back at home nearly every house had a piano, and on breezy afternoons music could be heard from all directions. Not so here. So it pleased Emily very much whenever she heard faint strains of waltzes and sometimes sonatas coming through the parlor window. Maudeline could play the piano! She became more completely interesting by the day, never mind that Emily hadn't spoken to her once.

Most fascinating of all was the one caller Maudeline seemed to receive. He was tall and trim with a little beard, and he looked just the way Emily's German master had back at school. Yes, Emily nodded to herself. He has the look of a professor. Or a German. He usually carried a satchel which Emily assumed contained music. After he arrived, every time, all through the late afternoons, different music would come from next door. Duets. Passionate ones.

Emily was intrigued.

Every Friday Emily visited the Wadleighs for an hour in the afternoon. Every Friday, Maudeline did not appear. Emily knew that she was home, for Emily had observed enough to know that Fridays were not Maudeline's usual riding or walking days, but she never joined any company that happened to be there. Captain Wadleigh remarked once that Maudeline simply liked to be alone, a concept Emily had some trouble understanding. Whoever would _like _being alone? Maudeline was certainly lonely. Whenever Emily happened to meet Maudeline on the street, she would smile and greet her. Usually Maudeline would spare her a glance and then go along her way. Emily was a little hurt, but not deterred.

She began to go for walks at the same time that Maudeline did, so that they would meet when they left their houses and when they returned. Emily would smile and say good morning. She'd also made a habit of sitting on a cushion on her front steps to read, strategically timed so that Maudeline would pass by her on her riding days. Emily was out and about so much that she progressed to being on nodding terms with Maudeline's maid. Once, Maudeline's fascinating gentleman caller—her music teacher indeed, it turned out—had even bid her good evening.

But never a reply from Maudeline. Never a smile, never a hello, never mind an invitation to call.

Time passed, and nothing much changed. Day to day life continued as usual, the routines the same as always. Meals from the Tavern, fish from Van Dort's, cries from the crier. Big news late in the year was that local baron, Lord Everglot, died. Father told her so over dinner one evening, and ten minutes later the crier's evening report confirmed it. Emily was sad in a vague, disconnected sort of way. The Everglots meant nothing to her. She'd never met them. They never threw parties like the duke and duchess had back home, ones where the entire town was invited to attend. Truthfully, she was more concerned about Maudeline. She hadn't seen the neighbor for days. Maudeline didn't go riding anymore, and her walks were few. From her perch on the steps Emily could see that Maudeline was a little thinner and a little more grey-looking every time she came outside. Much to Emily's disappointment, Friday afternoon visits at the Wadleigh's ended. Only temporarily, kind old Mrs. Wadleigh assured her over yet more cake. After the new year Emily would be more than welcome again. The promise made Emily feel a bit better.

Most disturbingly of all, though, the piano music stopped.

One day not too long after Lord Everglot's big funeral, Emily was playing a solitary game of hopscotch in the street in front of her house. Thirteen was a bit old for such games, but she didn't care. It was exercise. Something to do. And fun, besides. This village was sorely lacking in fun. One had to make one's own. Plum pudding was quite fun, much more of a challenge than cat's cradle. Particularly in a crinoline.

Emily raised her pebble, aimed, and tossed it into the exact center of the fifth square. With the precision of the well-practiced she balanced on one foot and began to hop, exposing her pantalettes a bit more with each bounce of her crinoline cage. One foot. Two feet. One foot again, careful not to catch her crinoline with the heel of her shoe. Big hop, land on two feet. One foot, tiny square. One foot once more. End on two feet and turn about, crinoline swaying wildly to and fro. Having successfully completed her circuit, she applauded herself and then bent to pick up the pebble. As she stood up again she caught sight of the town crier on a round through the square.

"Engagement official!" he was calling. "Finis, Lord Everglot, to wed! Hear ye, hear ye! Lord Everglot to marry Miss Maudeline Elvstead! Hear ye!"

Maudeline was getting married! How terribly exciting! Emily had never known a bride before. How very romantic. And to be the baroness! Maudeline must be at home _absolutely_ overjoyed!

Emily stopped and thought, her fingers to her chin. And then the _perfect _idea came to her. Emily smiled widely, a wave of excitement rushing over her.

She'd buy Maudeline an engagement gift! It was the perfect introduction! Emily turned back toward her house so quickly her crinoline swung hard enough to cause a breeze around her momentarily exposed ankles. She let her pebble drop to the ground, and ran indoors to fetch her purse.

0-0

The next day dawned chilly but bright. The air smelled like snow and woodsmoke. Emily was up with the faint church bells, determined to get an early start. As Maudeline never seemed about in the afternoons, she'd catch her in the morning. Surely ten wasn't _too_ early for a call. Maudeline seemed the type to keep early hours.

Clad in her visiting best, topped with a pretty bonnet, matching shawl and little gloves, Emily made her way next door. At ten on the button she gave the bellpull a tug. After what seemed like an eternity the maid, whom Emily felt as though she knew well, opened the door.

"Good morning!" said Emily brightly. She held up the gift she'd spent hours wrapping prettily. "Is Miss Maudeline in, please? I've brought my card!"

Prepared, Emily thrust her card at the maid with a smile. Looking very unsure, the maid smiled wanly back. She stepped aside to let Emily in.

"Just a moment, Miss—Van Lynden," the maid said, after a quick glance at the card. "I'll fetch her. Wait just here."

And so Emily waited, expectant, in the hall. It was very much like hers. This house was a little bigger, though, a bit more impressive. It had the air of a bit more..._history_. Emily thought of her mother's prized jewelry, and the gold she knew Father kept in a safe in his study. Beyond those things, her family had little in the way of treasured heirlooms.

A large mirror topped with an intricate carving of ivy and roses hung on the far wall of the entry, and Emily moved over to it to check herself once again. She'd done her best. The gown she wore was her very favorite and most flattering, in lovely springtime shade of pink. Emily had been very surprised to find how difficult pastels were to find in this village. Everyone here wore dark colors. She was still very skinny with no figure at all to speak of. Her elbows stuck out and her forehead was too big. Her eyes seemed far too big for her face. She sighed, and twined a bit of her loose brown hair around her fingers, enjoying the way the light made it shine. Maybe she should have put it up. Someday she would grow into herself. Mother had assured her that she would. Emily wished the growing would hurry up.

"Miss Maudeline," announced the maid's voice from behind her. "Miss Van Lynden."

Emily turned and saw Maudeline standing at the foot of the stairs. It was the closest she'd ever been, and the first time Emily had seen her without a hat or bonnet on. She was too surprised to remember to nod or curtsy.

"Miss Van Lynden," said Maudeline, taking a step forward but not extending a hand. Rather, she kept her hands folded near her middle as she regarded Emily down the length of her nose. "So early a call."

Under that gaze, and just in Maudeline's presence in general, it was difficult to remain confident. Emily was very aware of how much of a skinny little girl she was next to Maudeline. While Maudeline's face was...well..._aristocratic_, her eyes were quite nice. And her hair was a thing of beauty. Emily couldn't stop staring. It was so dark brown it was almost black, and she wore it swept from her face in a complicated nest of fat curls and braids. She had long, elegant fingers, and Emily was very hard-pressed not to envy her figure. Maudeline was tall and slim, but had been blessed with a truly remarkable bosom. Emily had trouble not staring outright in a sort of awed jealousy.

_I hope I grow into myself that well_, Emily thought, recalling what her mother had said, and letting her eyes sweep over Maudeline one more time.

"Congratulations on your engagement!" Emily beamed, holding out the box. "I've brought you a present!"

Maudeline regarded her with a steely gaze. After staring long enough to make Emily begin to squirm, Maudeline flicked her eyes down to the calling card in her hand.

"You're new, aren't you?" she asked without preamble. Her voice was deep and cultured. "You're the girl from next door."

Emily nodded. "Not so new anymore," she said. "I've lived here for months and months."

Maudeline did not return Emily's friendly smile. "Yes," Maudeline said. Again, that long, penetrating stare that made Emily think had a spot on her face or something. "I've noticed. You follow me about. Like a spaniel."

Emily blushed. She didn't think Maudeline had actually noticed her. And why had she not acknowledged her, if she had noticed? Maudeline, Emily decided, was a queer sort of person. Plainly she needed Emily's influence. Bolstered by the thought, Emily just smiled politely.

"Come this way," said Maudeline finally, sweeping past with the soft rustle of petticoats on crinoline and leaving the faint scent of rosewater in her wake. Emily closed her eyes for a moment, trying her best to remember absolutely everything about her new best friend. She was sure that soon this would all be the new normal, little things to be taken for granted. Smiling, and clutching the box, Emily trotted after her hostess. They passed right by the drawing room where Emily was accustomed to being shown.

"Just through here," Maudeline directed when they reached a doorway, stepping aside and waving Emily into a very well-appointed parlor. Emily helped herself to a seat on a very comfortable settee, while Maudeline settled herself in a small armchair. Once they were better friends, Emily would have to ask how Maudeline so effortlessly managed to have her skirts fall just so when she sat. It was not so very long ago that Emily had had to always take special care when sitting so that her hoop didn't fly up and hit her in the face.

There was a long pause. Emily waited for her hostess to speak. Surely it was customary for the hostess to ring for tea. How Emily longed to take a proper tea with someone again. But nothing seemed forthcoming. Emily was not about to give up now, however. Not when she'd got as far as the parlor with her. So intimate! Curious, Emily glanced around. This room was smaller, more comfortably furnished and less fashionable than the drawing room. Perhaps this was where Maudeline did whatever entertaining she did. Someday when they were better friends she would have to ask about the real society distinction between drawing rooms and parlors. Mother had never mentioned it.

"That's a lovely _daguerreotype_," Emily said her best company voice, inclining her head toward the mantelpiece. Maudeline frowned.

"A what?" she asked.

"Daguerreotype," Emily repeated. Maudeline still looked puzzled, so Emily pointed. "The picture."

"Oh," said Maudeline, barely glancing over. "Of course. My father and mother."

Ah, of course. Emily peered at the portrait. Maudeline's mother had been a dainty, pretty little thing. And plainly Maudeline had inherited her chin from her father. The couple looked normal, like any other couple.

"Where do they live?" Emily asked, turning back to Maudeline.

"They don't."

For a moment Emily was confused, but then it dawned on her. Sympathy and pity flooded through her. "Oh, how dreadful," she said, making to reach out a hand toward Maudeline but then thinking better of it. "I'm very sorry. It's quite awful. My mother died, too, quite recently."

"How sad," replied Maudeline. The flat, bored way that Maudeline said it made Emily think that perhaps Maudeline's words didn't precisely reflect what she actually thought. So very queer indeed.

"Well, here's your gift!" said Emily, just to break the awkward moment. And also because she was positively dying to see Maudeline open the parcel. Who could resist such a present?

Wordlessly Maudeline took the box and set it on her lap. Her lip seemed to curl just ever so slightly as she pulled the ribbon loose. Emily waited with bated breath as Maudeline pulled the handsome sterling silver basket just far enough out of its box to be able to see what it was.

"It's a basket!" Emily said happily, unable to contain herself. "It's for berries!"

"Thank you," said Maudeline, who did not sound very excited. After a mere glance at the sterling silver basket, which Emily had taken such time and care to choose, Maudeline returned it to its box and set it on the floor beside her chair. Emily couldn't help feeling as if she'd been unexpectedly slapped. There was another pause.

"Oooh, a Harryhausen!" Emily tried, looking over at the piano in the corner. The cover was over the keys. "I do so love to play the piano. Do you play?" She asked this knowing very well the answer, and she so hoped that Maudeline would rise to the occasion, perhaps mention a favorite piece of music. Who could resist such a conversation?

"No," said Maudeline curtly, looking away. Surprised, Emily looked at her profile, only now noticing how dark the circles under Maudline's eyes were. Perhaps she wasn't feeling well today. All the excitement of her engagement, surely.

Emily let out a small, friendly laugh, trying to make Maudeline brighten. "Oh, but Miss Maudeline-"

"Elvstead."

"El—Elvstead, I've heard the most _beautiful _music coming from your house! And I met your teacher, once!"

Maudeline stiffened, and for a moment Emily was afraid her hostess was about to be sick. Perhaps she really _was _unwell. But the moment passed quickly. So Emily went on, a trifle nervously now, "Yes, haha! A lovely gentleman, really! I could just tell. And those _duets _I would hear-"

"You heard?" Maudeline asked, sounding a trifle strangled and odd. All the color had positively drained from her face, and she put a hand to her mouth. Emily was quick to reassure her.

"Yes, it was simply _beautiful_!" Emily said, taking the liberty this time of patting Maudeline's arm. "The _music _the two of you made together, it truly was-"

Emily broke off in surprise when Maudeline shot up out of her chair, standing at full height. Her face was calm but in a dangerous way. The sharpness of her cheekbones and the hollow dark spots under her eyes stood out frighteningly. Maudeline's hands were clenched into fists at her side.

"Thank you for your visit," interrupted Maudeline in a tone so sharp Emily flinched. "And for the gift. Hildegarde will see you out."

And then she turned, sweeping from the room with such force that her skirts swung enough to bump an end table and make it wobble. Without even a backward glance Maudeline disappeared through the parlor door. Emily stared after her, absolutely dumbfounded. She wanted to cry. What had gone wrong? It seemed as though things had been going so _well_!

"Don't mind her, dearie," the maid said in a quiet, soothing voice as she led a rather shaky Emily to the door. "She's just a little...under the weather."

"All the excitement, I suppose," said Emily, attempting to be polite and empathetic even through a quickly tightening throat. Oh, she was so upset and embarrassed. "About to be Lady Everglot, and all."

The maid simply nodded, looking very tired and troubled. Well, that made the both of them. Dealing with such a one as Maudeline every single day had to be _exhausting_.

Once back in her own house, Emily peeled off her mittens and her shawl, leaving them on the floor behind her. She tossed her bonnet carelessly aside in the parlor. For a moment she just stood there by the piano, her breath coming in gasps. And then, she sank to the floor and sobbed.

Emily desperately, achingly missed her mother. All she wanted was to feel her mother's arms around her, to hear her soft, reassuring voice. All Emily had done was try to be friendly. All she'd wanted was to make a friend. Why did everything always have to go so awfully _wrong_ for her? No mother, no friends, no comfort but her music. For a long time she sat on the floor, feeling sorry for herself. The fact that her crinoline cage was digging into her uncomfortably only made her feel worse.

Sniffling, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. How dare that Maudeline. Being so rude. And ungrateful! She'd barely even looked at that pretty silver basket. To think Emily had spent nearly all her saved-up money on it! Someday she'd show her. Emily didn't know when, or precisely how, but she'd show her. For now she pulled the curtains shut so that she didn't have to see Maudeline's house.

She sat down at her own piano and tinkled at the keys. She flexed her fingers and rolled her head on her shoulders, took a deep breath, and began to play the wildest polka she knew. Polkas always made her feel better, and this time was no exception. For the rest of the morning she played dance tune after dance tune, remembering how Mother and Father used to dance together while she'd play. She played on and on until Father came out of the study and told her to stop. By then she was in a good enough mood again that she didn't even mind.

0-0

When Maudeline Elvstead married Finis Everglot, becoming Lady Everglot in the wedding of the year, Emily Van Lynden was the only villager who did not attend. Instead, she sat at her piano and played every funeral march she knew in honor of the occasion. And then, when she watered her fern by the window, catching glimpses of the wedding party and villagers returning, she hummed a few ballads. Mostly ones about jilted wives and unhappy marriages.

All that done and the crowds dispersed, Emily brushed her hands, put on her shawl, bonnet and mittens, and set about her errands for the day. As she walked she kept her head held high, and did her best to ignore the ongoing chatter about the wedding ceremony from lingering villagers in the square. One young lady outside the milliner's, however, was using a tone and volume quite impossible to ignore.

Emily stopped and lingered as the young woman was saying to the milliner, "What's a bride without a bonnet? I couldn't believe it, _everyone _wears a bonnet now. Far be it from me, I suppose, but really, I do think the upper classes should set an example. Who wears a _crown_ with a veil on it?"

The young woman was short and plump and dark-haired, and Emily would guess her just barely twenty. She was wearing a rather tatty looking bonnet, but her simple dress was a nice dark shade of purple. After a moment Emily realized that she saw this girl often. Their paths usually crossed at the fish market, though they'd only ever nodded to each other. Emily took a step closer.

"Crowns are traditional where I come from," Emily offered, along with a friendly smile. When the young woman turned to Emily, the milliner took her chance to escape into her shop and close the door behind her. "But I agree with you. White bonnets are lovely."

The young woman was still looking at her sideways, but seemed to be warming up when she replied, "Yes, with satin ribbons on."

"Ooh," said Emily, "_Velvet_ for this time of year. There was one just like that in my fashion magazine this month!"

"You subscribe to a fashion magazine?" asked the young woman, perking up perceptibly and taking a step toward Emily.

"I'm Nell," she said, smiling and extending a hand.

"Emily," replied Emily, shaking hands with her. And then, hoping against hope, she asked, "Would...you like to come to my house? For tea? I could show you the magazine."

Nell seemed to consider for all of ten seconds. "Glad to, thanks ever so! I'll tell you all about what the bride wore today, if you want. I don't think I saw you there."

"No," said Emily lightly. Changing the subject, she said, "I'll just go home then now, and prepare. See you soon?"

"Ten minutes!" said Nell. "Where d'you live?"

On her way back home to prepare for her tea with Nell, Emily couldn't help giggling happily to herself behind her hand. Somehow she knew, she just _knew_, that she and Nell would be fast friends.

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**Author's Note:**

The genesis of this story is pretty simple. I've been writing bits for my other story, and I realized that Emily should have shown up a while ago, with the way my timeline is! And then...this story happened. I've never written anything about Emily, never mind from her point of view, and I was happy to give it a try. I liked exploring her and her backstory here. And I simply loved the idea of her and Maudeline together-one wouldn't ever imagine. Thanks for all the feedback on this, readers-always happy to hear it!


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